Just Breathe
by FloofyFox
Summary: 'Jimbo, the past'll do nothin' to help ya. It's like holdin' on to an anchor. The longer you hold, the deeper you'll sink, you need to let go,' A little drabble/one-shot. Complete.


"Hey Silver?"

"Yes Jimbo?" the cyborg glanced up from the dish he was absentmindedly scrubbing, his thoughts clattering around him like the cutlery Jim placed in the sink.

"Can I- I would like to say, thanks," the boy said, looking quite awkward at saying that. His eyes darted up, knowing he couldn't back away now. "For, everything you've done to help, y'know, these past days,"

Silver blinked, setting the dish down and wiping his hands on his apron, cocking his head slightly, a curious glint in his one good eye. "Oh?"

"Y-yeah. I know I can be, difficult, at times, so thanks for, um… putting up with that," Jim said, still thoroughly rattled at his sudden speech. If it could be called such a thing. "I act like I don't need help, and that it doesn't do anything, but it has helped me… quite a bit," he bit his lip. The little 'speech' he had thought over hadn't at all sounded what he had imagined, or rehearsed it to be, in his head, sounding a lot more flat.

"Ay, Jim. You're a tough one, yer are," Silver chuckled, shaking Jim's shoulder light-heartedly. "But not that tough. I know how yer kind works, and I know when I can 'elp. I need no thanks,"

"But still… people don't usually stay around this long, they just run off, but you, stayed. You have no idea, how much that- helped me…" Jim realised his babbling, letting the sentence slip off, staring up at Silver through his bangs, his eyes searching for some sign, of _anything_. He was pouring his heart out, and the teen didn't like how vulnerable he had let himself become.

The cyborg's face dropped slightly at the thanks, his brow furrowing. "Mmm," Silver murmured, guiding Jim to sit in the kitchen's chairs, then sitting beside him. "Jimbo, ya don't need to thank me, honestly you aren't as much work as you believe,"

Jim huffed, leaning his arm against the table as if for both physical and emotional support. "Still," he mumbled.

"It wasn't yer fault,"

"It wasn't my what?"

"Yer fault. It wasn't yers, why 'e left," Jim's eyes glazed with confusion, then slipped to sad realisation. He coughed into his fist, faking a reason to drop the eye contact with Silver whose expectant gaze was piercing through him.

"He left because he had to,"

"You weren't the reason,"

"He _wanted_ to leave,"

"Not because of you,"

"There wasn't a _choice_. I didn't _give_ him one!"

"You were no more than a lil'un!"

"I was _there_! Just- I was-" Jim's mind felt as broken as his sentence, as he frantically ran a hand through his hair, as if he was trying to sort out the fragments in his brain. The teen tried to scramble for some reason, _any_ reason that he had before.

"Yes. You were. And no child, not a _single breathin' one_ should have had to go through what you did, and yet… you've come through. You'll _get through_ , no mat'er where yer are," Silver responded firmly, not allowing the boy a chance to reply. "Jimbo, the past'll do nothin' to help ya. It's like holdin' on to an anchor. The longer you hold, the deeper you'll sink, you need to let go,"

"I… how?" Jim choked, once more transforming it into cough. Silver's gaze softened, the lad seeming so forlorn and lost that he had to place a comforting hand on his back.

"Unlock yourself. Let it slip away, and breathe,"

"B-breathe? That's it?" Jim puffed out a hysterical laugh, staring determinedly at the table. "You make it sound less cut out than it should be,"

"Breathe," Silver said firmly, shaking Jim slightly with his hand, squeezing his shoulder tight. "Sometimes you need the air to get you back to the surface,"

"That's dumb, you can't get air from underwater," Jim scoffed, his breathing still shallow and raspy from his outburst.

"Jimbo…!" Silver warned.

"Breathing!" Jim said, screwing his eyes shut as he pictured a calm sea, inhaling shakily, and after some seconds releasing it. The steps were repeated, as was his thoughts. _Just breathe, breathe_.

"See?" the cyborg asked after a collection of breaths. The boy blinked back up at him, his blue eyes blurry as if waking from a deep sleep. Jim's gaze couldn't hide the hint of surprise, a new warmth radiating from him.

"It… worked?"

"Lad, act like that and I'm gonna go thinkin' you've gone your whole life without oxygen!" Silver taunted lightly, ruffing Jim's hair playfully. The teen growled slightly, batting his hand away, trying to hide the grin that was itching at his lips.

"How are you to judge?"

"Ay, don't push yer luck," the cyborg chuckled, standing back up from the table with a screech of the chair.

"Fine," Jim said, his eyes regaining their youthful twinkle.

"But remember. If yer ever in panic, breathe,"

"Just breathe,"

* * *

 **I JOINED A NEW FANDOM. HURRAH! Alright so I finally got to watch Treasure Planet as Disney released it on Blu-Ray (they still care :') and it was so beautiful, I just had to write some fanfiction. It has pushed and shoved its way into my top 10 fandoms, so... 3 Jim Hawkins.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this drabble, and for older pups who have read any previous stories, I am not dead, still writing, I've just been super busy.**

 **Until next time, Floof Out!**


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